by Lee Killough
He wrapped his arms around her, whispering, “Thank you, Bibi.”
Her impulse for a wry response — that saving his life beat a grilling back home by the Office of Professional Standards for losing him — died in her throat. He had to suspect what a near thing it had been.
She leaned into him. “You’re welcome.”
Geyer cleared her throat. “Let’s go! Maxwell, Officer Hatcher will make sure you arrive, even if you fall asleep on the way. Officer Stromm is with Brill.”
She led the way from the ICU hallway and out through the hospital’s reception area . . . then left them on the threshold while she caught the cable down. Stromm guided Janna onto the walkway around the shaft toward Admin, but let Janna pick the pace . . . a gingery shuffle.
At an impatient sigh behind them, Stromm sent a frown backwards. “Obviously you never had frostbite, Hatch. I did once, helping find lost hunters in the Bighorns one winter, and I know what it feels like. So just rack back.”
In Admin they walked through to a room opposite Fontana’s office . . . where an oval table with encircling chairs occupied the center while the curving bulkhead displayed an image of the Milky Way.
Fontana sat at one end, a sleek executive once more.
In contrast to the jon on his right. . . lean and angular, wearing a heavy black fisherman’s sweater, two days of stubble on a craggy face with the rough, reddened skin of an outdoors man, and snowy hair gathered back in a careless ponytail hanging past his shoulders. A scar crossing the outer corner of his left eye and brow gave him a piratical squint. Yet with assurance in every relaxed line of him, and laser sharpness behind the casual gaze, he might as well have been wearing a power suit. Janna suspected that Crispin Lanour — identity obvious even before Mama’s intake of breath — could wear a bath towel with the same effect.
No wonder he kept control of Lanour-Tenning for so long.
Lanour smiled. “I think I’ve been recognized, Len.”
Fontana waved at chairs to his left. “Please have a seat, detectives.”
They chose two a couple down from him, Mama taking the one nearest Fontana. Like the chairs in the restaurant, the edges of the seat arched over Janna’s thighs when she folded into it.
Fontana nodded at Hatcher and Stromm. “Thank you.” Dismissing them.
With their departure, Lanour eyed Janna and Mama. “Not quite what you expected inviting them up, is it, Len.”
Anger sparked in Janna. “What did you expect? That we’d treat it like a junket and not try to find the smuggler and Chenoweth’s killer? I’m sure it’s upsetting that it’s turned out to be Doubrava, but—”
“Let’s wait for Chief Geyer and Captain Doubrava before you say more,” Fontana said.
Wait for Geyer and Doubrava? “So this is more than taking statements?” Janna asked.
Fontana glanced at Lanour.
Lanour said, “The Chief’s arranged what we have to call a drumhead hearing.” He smiled wryly. “I’m just not sure who’s on trial.”
On which unsettling note, Geyer and Doubrava came through the portal. Both in uniform. Doubrava’s expression went sympathetic on seeing the two of them.
Anger flared in Janna. Sympathy? Considering Lanour’s remark, did that mean Geyer was indeed protecting her own?
Doubrava sat at the end of the table opposite Fontana.
Geyer paced behind him. “This proceeding is being recorded.”
Janna sucked in her breath. So Geyer was making it a trial? How could she do that? And Fontana was letting her?
“Detectives Maxwell and Brill are here to give formal statements regarding the assault on them in Llevel Eighteen. Captain Doubrava is being given the right to respond. Let’s start with you, Detective Maxwell. State your full name for the record.”
“Detective Mahlon Sumner Maxwell of the Shawnee County Police Department’s Crimes Against Persons Division.”
“Explain why you abused the hospitality of this station and misused an authorization code to enter a restricted area.”
Janna stiffened in anger. So they were on trial?
Mama, however, showed no more reaction to the accusatory tone than he did to baiting by defense attorneys back home. “The short answer is, to determine if lLevels Eighteen and Twenty had ring halls like the greenhouse levels do. That information wasn’t available on the datanet, even at the security level, and we needed it because — Mr. Lanour, have you been told how Paul Chenoweth’s suit was sabotaged?”
Lanour nodded.
So Mama explained about the ghost and seeing him plant the wax in Chenoweth’s cubby.
“Date and time?” Geyer said.
When Mama gave it, she had Athena display the image on the screen wall behind Mama.
Geyer said, “We are now viewing the surveillance of that individual replacing the wax in Paul Chenoweth’s cubby.”
Fontana raised his brows. “Have you identified that individual?”
“No. Athena was unable to.”
Fontana’s brows came down in a frown. “Then how can you accuse—”
“Our concern at the moment is the assault in Level Eighteen,” Geyer cut in. “So, Detective, you entered Level Eighteen to determine if it has a ring hall.”
“Yes.”
“Does it?”
“Yes.”
“But having ascertained that, you didn’t leave.”
Janna had to admire one thing. Geyer had the tone of the statement down perfect, implying some unprincipled motive behind their actions.
Mama never flinched. “I was curious about the secrecy around the rings. So we explored further.”
“Never considering there might be critical reasons for restricting access?”
Despite the question’s razor edge, Janna heard it as rhetorical. So must Mama. He said nothing.
After a moment, Geyer continued. “What did your ‘exploration’ discover?”
He described the rim, Doubrava’s appearance, and repeated the conversation with him . . . word for word as Janna recalled it.
Doubrava’s statement about discovering which portal the ghost used, but having to break off tracking him at Athena’s alert of his code’s use, tightened Geyer’s mouth.
He appeared unperturbed.
Mama concluded with Doubrava shining a light down on them as they ascended the radial shaft.
Doubrava leaned forward on the table. “Detective, you positively identify me as the individual you spoke with in the ring’s rim?”
“Yes.”
“How? By your own admission, your cell provided the only light. How well did that let you see this individual?”
“I shined the beam at you.”
“And how did the individual react?”
Janna saw the trap. She knew Mama must, too, but he demonstrated Doubrava shielding his eyes with his arm.
Doubrava smiled. “Did he ever lower his arm?”
“Not completely.”
“So you never saw his entire face.”
“I recognized your voice.”
Doubrava said, “The individual we were calling the ghost entered the morgue dressed as a hospital staffer, and passed as a maintenance tech to plant the wax sabotaging Chenoweth’s suit. Couldn’t he just as easily masquerade as me?”
“It was you.”
“I’m sure you believe that. But nearly freezing to death—”
“That’s speculation involving medical expertise none of us possess,” Geyer said. “Let’s move on to Detective Brill.”
Despite the interruption, Doubrava sat back smiling in satisfaction.
Geyer turned to Janna and asked her the same questions. Janna gave the same answers, adding coming to floating in freezing blackness.
“How did you escape?” Lanour asked.
“I located Detective Maxwell by the sound of his breathing and oriented myself by the green rim on the deck and around the portals and where the radial shaft connected to the rim.”
Lanour glanced a
t Fontana. “You were right about the quality of the bioluminescence.”
“We’re not here assessing safety measures, reassuring as it is to know about them,” Geyer said.
Lanour spread his hands in apology. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Proceed.”
Geyer turned back to Janna. “To save Captain Doubrava from asking the question, did you see any more of the individual’s face than your partner did?”
“I saw his eyes, but not the color.”
“So, no. Let’s view surveillance.”
She circled to the screen wall. After pulling aside the image of the ghost in the locker porto, she walked the length of the wall, murmuring. Janna and Mama swiveled their chairs to watch images bloom in her wake. Then she retraced her steps, stretching each image in turn to a comfortable viewing size.
“Maxwell and Brill enter Level Eighteen at twenty-one oh five. Note that they are dressed for cold. You were aware Eighteen had no heat?”
Mama said, “We overheard a remark to that effect during dinner in Rings of Saturn.”
“At twenty-one twenty-five this individual in a red anorak enters Eighteen.”
“That isn’t Doubrava’s face,” Fontana said.
“No, nor is it his exiting Level Eighteen twenty minutes later.”
Leaving with a bundle that had to be their jackets.
“He isn’t carrying a sleeper either time, either,” Doubrava said.
“The anorak is bulky enough to hide it going in,” Geyer said, “and the jackets when he leaves.”
“How could this individual have access to the sleeper?” Lanour asked. “Isn’t that secured in your offices?”
“I’ll let Captain Doubrava explain.”
Doubrava flushed. “I was careless. We had an incident in a lab that evening that required using the sleeper.”
“Dr. Lemieux,” Fontana said.
“Yes. As we finished, I received word that Detectives Maxwell and Brill wanted to interview you regarding your visits to the morgue while Paul Chenoweth’s body was being stored there. Since I knew Chief Geyer would want me present, I sealed the lab with the sleeper in it, intending to retrieve it later. Except . . . after the interview I returned to Security to file my report on the Lemieux incident and forgot about the sleeper. It remained in the lab.”
Lanour pursed his lips. “Two questions. How did this individual know the sleeper was there, and if the lab was sealed, how did he gain access?”
Doubrava grimaced. “I don’t know how he knew it was there, though from our observation of him, he has total access to the station, so I’m not surprised he could open even sealed portals.”
“Moving on,” Geyer said. “After exiting Level Eighteen, the individual stops at Level Seventeen.”
She tapped the image and let it play, showing Anorak entering Seventeen, then leaving four minutes later minus the bundle.
“He shoved everything into the recycle chute. We know that because at twenty-one fifty-three Recycle’s receiving bin detected the transponder in the sleeper identifying it as Security’s property. You’ll be happy to know, Detectives, that when I went up to collect the sleeper, jackets I later identified as those you wore into Level Eighteen had also been recovered.”
“Any chance our cells and slates were in the jackets?” Mama said. “I recorded the conversation with Doubrava.”
Janna shot a look at Doubrava, but he showed no reaction. So he knew the answer even before Geyer shook her head. What had he done, tossed the cells and slates into the chute first, so they fed through the grinder before the sleeper arrived?
“The individual continues up through the station until he enters module Twelve C.” She enlarged that image. “Twelve C is the module with your quarters, Ian.”
“Which I had entered earlier and never left.”
“Athena, can you verify when Ian Doubrava entered module Twelve C?”
“Ian Doubrava entered module Twelve C at twenty-one oh nine.”
“Which,” Geyer said, “was shortly after she alerted you to your code being used at the security barrier.” Her voice sharpened. “She alerted you and you gave permission to let them pass, yet you then went to your quarters despite specific orders about minding the detectives. Why was that!”
He blew out a breath. “I don’t remember telling Athena to let them pass. I guess my mind was on the Lemieux report. I was wrong not to go after them. But I was tired and I guess not thinking straight. Their guide cuffs should have set off another alert and dispatched officers to escort them out.”
“Except they left their cuffs in their quarters.”
Doubrava grimaced. “Oh. I didn’t know.” starry
“Interestingly, five minutes after you entered your quarters, someone did follow the detectives down . . . the individual in the red anorak exiting Twelve C.”
“Which wasn’t me. Athena, when did Ian Doubrava exit module Twelve C?”
“Ian Doubrava exited module Twelve C at oh five fifty hours.”
“Just in time to report for my shift.”
Geyer said, “Detective Brill suggests that the individual in the anorak wore a clingskin mask. That would keep Athena from identifying him.”
Doubrava shook his head. “True, but . . . it wasn’t me. My hair isn’t the color of the ghost’s either. Search my quarters. You won’t find a red anorak, clingskin, or a wig.”
“I know.”
Current shot through Janna. Geyer’s flat tone turned two words whose context ought to make them reassuring into a threat.
Doubrava’s eyes narrowed.
Geyer tapped off the images on the screen wall, one by deliberate one. Leaving only that of the locker porto. “While I was in Recycle collecting the sleeper . . .” She halted in an attitude of listening, said, “And? I know. Now I need you over here in the Director’s conference room.” and continued, “. . . collecting the sleeper, a ripped red anorak came through the conveyor tube, headed for the shredder.”
“The ghost cleaning up, making sure the anorak’s not worth reclamation,” Lanour said. “But there’s no way to tell where it came from.”
“Not from which level, no, just up chute C.”
Doubrava relaxed . . . though only someone alert for it — Mama and her — might notice tension easing. Janna hoped Geyer had, too.
Geyer dipped her chin toward Fontana. “Fortunately, however otherwise unsophisticated, those older prototype androids utilized up there are meticulous sorters. One pulled out the anorak ahead of the grinder to check the removable lining. At that point it caught my eye because I recognized the ‘rips’ as knife slashes. When I noticed identically slashed hospital scrubs and a maintenance tech patterned suit in the tube, that struck me as suspicious. So I had them all bagged as evidence until it could be determined if they were related to some incident in the station.”
Doubrava’s neck went rigid.
“Shortly thereafter I was notified about Detectives Brill and Maxwell’s misadventure. While waiting in ICU to learn if they would survive, I reviewed surveillance to understand how they ended up where they did. Where of course I discovered the involvement of a red anorak.”
“Zea Cathmore is outside,” Fontana said.
“Have her come in.”
The portal opened to admit a tight-lipped Cathmore carrying four evidence bags. She sent one acid glance at Doubrava, then looked away.
He sat expressionless.
Janna’s skin tingled. The Forensics tech had to mean one thing, DNA testing of the clothing.
Geyer said, “Do you want us to adjust a chair for you?”
“I’d rather stand.” She bit the words off.
Geyer carried the four bags to Fontana and Lanour. “These are the items recovered in Recycle: a red anorak, scrubs, and a maintenance tech’s suit. And a package of clingskin found in one sleeve of the anorak lining. Ms. Cathmore did I ask you test these items for DNA?”
“I did.”
“Did you find DNA?”
; “I did.”
“Did you compare the results to the station database?”
“I did.”
“Did you find a match there?”
Janna held her breath. Go on, go on. Tell us what we already know.
“I did.”
Doubrava said, “Those items came from Recycle. They must be thoroughly contaminated. Have you identified all the DNA on them?”
Cathmore turned a withering stare on him that Janna challenged their own King Borthwick to match. “Aware that the receiving bin had contaminated the outside of the items, I tested only the inside, to determine who wore them. Inside each I found the DNA of a single individual, and the same individual’s DNA in all three items of clothing, plus on the package of clingskin. That DNA was a match to you, Ian Doubrava.” You sounded like something to be scraped off her boot.
Janna let her breath out. They had him!
The identification did not appear to faze Doubrava. “Ms. Cathmore, would you look at the locker porto image, where an individual is purportedly placing a particular wax in the Paul Chenoweth’s cubby. How does his maintenance tech suit compare with the one you tested?”
“The pattern is similar.”
“But can you say it’s the same suit?”
“No.”
Doubrava smiled.
Geyer said, “Thank you for mentioning wax, Mr. Doubrava.”
Mister Doubrava. Janna nudged Mama. A corner of his mouth twitched.
“Ms. Cathmore, have you also examined the VE suit belonging to Paul Chenoweth?”
Cathmore’s brows rose. “I have.”
“What, if anything, did you find on it?”
“On the seal I found a waxy substance.”
“Did you test it?”
“I did.”
“With what results?”
“I discovered that when heated, it attains a coefficient of friction of point zero one.”
“What effect would this have on the suit?”
“The seal would become too slippery to hold and would peel apart.”
“Could this have resulted in Paul Chenoweth’s death?”
“In a vacuum environment, failure of the seal would very likely result in a fatal decompression of the suit.”
